


Udobure Week 2016: Finally On AO3

by Squishy (BurbleJerry)



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, very minor angst tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurbleJerry/pseuds/Squishy
Summary: Since I'm finally using my AO3 account, I decided to upload this here, too. Man, my writing has improved! But it's still nice to look back on this, and hopefully, this shall still be enjoyed. Backdated to very roughly the date of Udobure Week 2016.





	1. Prompt: Reunion

The fabled Missiletainn lay across his lap, polished and gleaming with untapped potential. Truly, the acquisition of his partner sword marked not only the calm of his twitching sword hand, but also the true beginning of his original mission: save the future. Meeting up with his peers, even if only half were assembled, brought tears to his eyes when he’d thought them gone from his sight forever. Seeing his parents again, his uncle, his cousin… it was almost too much for even the chosen hero to bear. Luckily for him, the wounds sustained in their reunion needed tending, and so Owain had precious moments to himself in the healer’s tent, time he spent drying his tears and digesting the events of the past couple hours.

The swish of the tent flap told Owain that the healer had arrived, and so he stood and prepared to deliver a fantastic tale of his triumph, even if his sole wound was the slash on his arm. Words of heroism died on his lips, his breath stolen by the familiar sight of a priest he’d not seen in over a year.

Before another moment could pass in the thick silence between them, Brady of the Moistened Eyes rushed forward to embrace his wayward swordsman, only to let go once he noticed the bloodstained tear along Owain’s sleeve.

Despite Owain’s reassurances about his health, Brady sat him down and began tending his arm, all the while sobbing and lecturing the swordsman. True, either of them could have died in their time apart, and the time-travel thing was risky and desperate, and what if they never saw each other again, and so many other things that came pouring forth from the emotional healer. Brady continued to babble even after his work was done, until finally Owain pulled the priest into his arms and murmured, in normal speech, soothing words of love. They had been apart for so long, yet in that moment, Owain vowed to never again be separated from his sentimental lover.


	2. Prompt: Date

The distance between his ma’s lands and the capitol of Ylisse always annoyed Brady. He had to take several carriage rides to get there in a decent amount of time, and even then the days dragged by. Yet it was worth it to visit the court, where his ma often spent her time. More then that, it was worth it to visit his dear dorky date. One of these days, they’d have to get their own property together. 

Seeing the castle was always strange. He remembered the day it was taken down, when the white walls were blackened and crushed beneath Grima’s rage, when the city burned. Brady and his peers had barely gotten out alive, and it was only after that tragedy that the decision to travel back in time was solidified.

Grumbling about his own dark thoughts, Brady continued into the castle proper to seek his boyfriend. He’d sent a letter about his arrival, but would Owain remember? Probably, yet Brady was always plagued by nagging thoughts that claimed his partner would forget him.

The dark tone of the healer’s thoughts were swiftly interrupted by a shout, and before Brady could even look up, there was Owain, strong arms wrapping around the spindly priest for an enthusiastic hug.

“Don’t startle me like that, ya oaf!” Brady scolded, though it was less scolding and more blubbering. Curse himself for crying so easily, but he always missed the poet more then he knew.

“Ah, sorry!” laughed Owain, hug only tightening when the swordsman felt that familiar wetness in his messy hair, “But my blood burned to see you again, my dearest Brady! If a mere moment longer had passed, I surely would have lost control, and the power of my sword hand–”

“Yeah, yeah, it’d twitch,” muttered the healer, his sobbing coming under some semblance of control. Brady pulled away from the hug, holding Owain at arms’ length and looking him over. The couple months they’d spent apart did little to change the enthusiastic poet, but Brady almost swore that the man looked even more fit then before.

“Now, are you prepared for our fateful trip this day?”Owain asked with a grin and, to Brady’s amusement, a blush. The swordsman obviously noticed Brady eyeing him over.

“What, ya actually got plans? A’ight, a’ight, lead th’ way,” Brady replied, only barely getting the words out before Owain grabbed his hand and led him off at a brisk jog.

They left the castle altogether, slowing their pace as Brady began to tire. Through the capitol city they wandered, and past it, and as the priest began to question whether Owain even had a destination in mind, they stopped.

Almost barreling into the poet, Brady was about to ask where the heck they even were when he realized Owain was grinning at him. Looking around, the healer felt his irritation melting away, replaced with awe. The clearing they stopped in was beautiful, the surrounding trees’ leaves just beginning to change to their autumn colors, the blankets on the ground in full sunlight– wait.

“I, ah, thought we could just enjoy each other’s company,” Owain explained sheepishly, for once dropping his unique manner of speaking. Normally, the man would try to find something exciting for them to do, which was interrupted half the time by random circumstance.

Before Owain could offer further explanation, as if he were truly worried about his choice of date, Brady gratefully flopped onto a blanket. Nap first, hanging out later. The healer heard his lover laugh before settling next to him, and he knew it would be a good day.


	3. Prompt: Celebration

Revelry all around, people dancing and singing, yet what Brady noticed most was the underlying sadness. The citizens of Ylisse celebrated Grima’s death, and all of the Shepherds were gathered to relax after a job well done. 

But what of their kids, those who came from the future to help save the world? Some planned to stay, for a time; others, mainly Lucina, planned to head home, to see if their timeline was safe. It felt as if everyone would eventually head back to their real home, even if the chance of salvation was slim. Brady planned to, and he knew Owain did, too.

For the moment, they could put such worries aside to celebrate. Later in the day, Brady would be playing the violin, but that was later; now, he rested against Owain and sipped tea. It was endearing how easily the energetic swordsman fell asleep, how he managed to snore softly despite the noise all around them.

The violinist was just debating on waking his partner up when he suddenly felt arms wrapping around him. Brady yelped and almost jumped when he realized it was just Owain, half-consciously snuggling. He grumbled under his breath and surreptitiously glanced around, feeling red gather in his cheeks. Not that he was embarrassed and giddy, that would be silly; he was just startled.

“I love you,” murmured into the healer’s shoulder gave him pause. Who cared if anyone saw, Brady figured, and wrapped an arm around Owain’s broad shoulders.

“I love ya, too.”


	4. Prompt: Family

“Honey Boo-Boo, your future is important to me,” cooed Maribelle, hiding her smile behind her teacup as Brady cringed at the nickname, “You know I support you, and I just want the best for both of our families,” she continued, as the marriage of a noble house to the royal house of Ylisse was a big deal, and the fact that their houses have a long-standing friendship would make the process both smooth and full of awkward familial moments.

The husbands-to-be sat next to each other, and to Owain’s opposite side was his cousin, Lucina. Across from them sat the heads of their families’ houses, which consisted of Maribelle, Chrom, and Lissa. Fragrant tea and sugary cookies sat upon the table, and the mid-morning light shone through the window of the small room in the Ylisse castle. It was insisted, mainly by Maribelle, that their families help plan the wedding. Of course, Owain and Brady were grateful, but the process was definitely trying.

As Maribelle launched back into her latest ideas for the wedding, most of which she would strong-arm into actually happening, Brady snuck a glance around. Owain was nodding absently, teacup in his hands, though he seemed to be dozing off. Lissa was offering suggestions and encouragement, fully enthused in her best friend’s ideas. Chrom’s expression contained near-physical pain, and Brady sympathized deeply with his future uncle-in-law. At least Lucina was listening, or seemed to be.

Brady jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his leg. Looking to the side again, he caught Owain smiling at him in that adorable, dorky, loving way of his. How did such a dramatic man pull off such a tender expression? The healer would never know, and he didn’t need to know, not when he could get lost in that grey-green gaze.

The soft giggling didn’t register with either lovebird, nor did the throat-clearing, nor the emphasized coughing, until Maribelle finally snapped, “Brady, Owain, pay attention! You were asked a question.” 

“Wha’!? What, what question?!” Brady stuttered, face reddening as he tore his gaze from Owain’s beautiful eyes. On the swordsman’s other side, Lucina continued to giggle, covering her mouth with a hand and just barely stifling it. Across from them, Lissa pouted, at first, before bursting into giggles of her own. Chrom just sighed, sipping more tea and muttering under his breath, which barely hid the upturned corners of his mouth. 

“F-fear not, Lady Maribelle! We are of singular attention to these most… erm, we’re paying attention,” Owain finished lamely as Maribelle glowered at his dramatic speech. Almost immediately, the noblewoman’s expression lightened, and the conversation continued. Brady was glad to let Owain take on this next round of questions, seeing as most of them were minor, unimportant details. Who would pay attention to how frilly the napkins were, anyway? As long as they got married in the end, Brady was fine with pretty much anything. Or so he told himself. 

Eventually, Chrom set his teacup down and excused himself, citing ‘duties’ as he beat a hasty retreat. At least he attended in the first place. Shortly after, Lucina followed, with the same excuse. Their mothers’ talkativeness died down as it became just the four of them in the room, and Brady felt nervous at the unexpected tension. 

“So, um, congratulations! I know I’ve already said it a bunch, but we’re both really happy that you’re happy,” Lissa exclaimed, suddenly leaning over the table, “So don’t worry about anything, because we’ll help all the way, ok?” Despite her smile, tears freely ran down her cheeks. Happy tears, thankfully, and not the first time they’d made an appearance on the fair princess’ face.

“Oh, dearest mother, don’t cry! We appreciate the help, and, and, th-thank you so much,” Owain ended with a sob, leaning across the table to hug his mother. Maribelle reached out to steady the tray of sweets before it was knocked over, just as Brady did the same. The healers stared at one another for a moment, before they, too, were hugging. Theirs was an emotional family, but it stuck together like glue, and through all his blubbering and tears, Brady suddenly felt at ease about his marriage to that dorky, lovable poet.


	5. Prompt: Hurt

“Hold still already, I’m almost done,” Brady snapped at Owain, grip tight on his patient’s arm as his staff mended flesh and bone back together. The swordsman should feel lucky that his partner was even around in the first place: if Brady hadn’t become impatient and went out on the roads to meet Owain halfway, then the energetic poet would have had to reach his love’s house with a broken arm. As it was, Brady could heal him on the spot. Efficient, but unpleasant.

“How’d this even happen to ya? Someone hurt ya?!” Brady demanded, rolling a sleeve up as soon as he was done. The gesture was meant to be threatening, but the healer was as scrawny as ever, and Owain choked out a laugh, residual pain fading with torturous slowness. Immediately, Brady’s arms wrapped around the swordsman, and his trademark sobs came with them.

“Worry not, Brady of the Moistened Eyes,” proclaimed Owain, even as he gingerly returned the hug, “I merely ran into some bandits on the way here. They shall not terrorize any travelers again!” Even if one had gotten in a lucky blow, at least the road was safe again. Brady didn’t seem to share his partner’s confidence; he grabbed Owain’s hand and began leading them both to their original meet-up spot.

“So eager to meet destiny?” teased the poet, though Brady didn’t respond. Their walk to the their favorite spot in the forest was silent, save for the chirping of crickets in the night. Once at the clearing, Brady flopped upon the waiting blanket and pouted. Tense silence followed, during which the swordsman wondered if something else were wrong.

“Lemme see yer arm again,” muttered the healer, and Owain scooted next to him, displaying said arm. Though it was healed by Brady’s own hand, he still looked over the arm again, as if uncertain of his own skill.

“Come now, you did a fine job earlier,” Owain began, “I’m fine, Brady. They were mere bandits,” and the poet went silent for a moment as realization struck, “We aren’t at war anymore. I won’t die on you, this I swear.”

Those words freed the waiting torrent of tears, accompanied by the healer throwing himself into Owain’s arms. As the swordsman hugged his sobbing husband, he knew he would have to be more careful. Their childhood remained fresh in their minds. The constant fighting, the blood and death… how could Owain neglect to consider their dark past, even in these times of peace?

“I’ll never leave you again,” murmured the swordsman, arms tight around the love of his life, “The fates shall ever keep us together.”


	6. Prompt: Intimacy

How many evenings had they spent within this forest clearing? Brady had lost count, not that he cared to keep track anymore. It was getting colder, and their days napping under the stars were numbered. Until they had to stop, however, the healer and the poet would lie under the stars, in the forest, on an increasingly-worn blanket.

Stretching the chill out of his long limbs, Brady turned to snuggle up with his husband. Sometimes it still hits him: Owain is his husband. There was a time when the healer never thought they’d all make it, that everyone would die in a doomed world, but here they were, able to relax in the peaceful future they saved.

Just as he was drifting to sleep, Brady felt a calloused hand run down his face. Peeking an eye open, the healer was greeted by the sight of Owain leaning in for a kiss, which he gently met. At first.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but before long Owain had rolled atop Brady, and their kissing had become passionate. The healer felt his husband’s hands cup his face, thumbs rubbing circles into Brady’s cheekbones.

Just as Owain’s hands drifted down to fumble at the healer’s belt, Brady pulled away.

“Not tonight,” Brady muttered, leaving the swordsman momentarily confused.

“No? Why…” Owain trailed off, suddenly worried, “Was I too rough this morning? Are you hurt?” He sat up, looking the prone healer over as if he could see anything wrong under those dark clothes.

“I’m fine, dangit, just… maybe I just wanna cuddle,” Brady grumped, looking away.

“Then embrace we shall, Sir Brady,” murmured the poet, lying down next to Brady and pulling him close. The healer snuggled up, planting gentle kisses against Owain’s neck before simply burying his face against warm skin. For now, they could share warmth under the stars.

When they got home later, they could do a bit more.


	7. Prompt: Future

“This is your last chance to remain here, my love. Though our mysterious benefactor is open to the aid of everyone, know that we’ve no idea the risks we face.”

Brady ran those words through his mind, over and over, as he packed his things. Every time Owain asked, the healer insisted on coming. No matter how much he cried, not when leaving first came up, not when saying goodbye to friends and family, Brady was determined to never be separated from his dorky swordsman ever again. They even got married, and yet Owain still asked if Brady wants to stay behind!

Grumbling under his breath, the healer looked over his supplies again. Bandages, vulneraries, salves, other healing items: check. Clothes, with Ma’s ring tucked away between shirts: check.

“Brady, love of my life, are you ready to begin our noble quest?” shouted Owain as he burst through the door, sword at his hip and hand partially covering his face. Brady yelped and nearly jumped right out of his skin before realizing who was yelling.

“Dangit, Owain, don’t startle me like that!” he grumbled, unable to help a slight smile even while irritated, “And yeah, think I got everything we’re gonna need. Inigo and Severa ready, too?” At Owain’s nod, Brady turned, grabbed his bag, and met the swordsman for a tight hug.

“I’ve… I’ve already said my farewells,” murmured Owain, his theatrical demeanor momentarily disappearing, “I… know we all have, but… if there’s anything else you must do before we depart…”

“Nah, I’m, I’m good,” Brady choked, feeling tears fall down his face before he could even consider stopping them. At first, he hadn’t even wanted to go: some random guy in a cowl wants help, but refuses to give details until a certain date and time? Sounds super fishy, and yet, somehow, there was sincerity in his tone. Urgency to his words. Those who chose to heed his call had the distinct feeling this mission was very, very serious.

Sobbing, Brady held his husband tight, burying his face in that short, fluffy hair. They could die on this mission. He would never see any version of Ma or Pa again. What if they didn’t die, because something else happened? Maybe their ‘mysterious benefactor’ was a liar, and this was a sick joke, or a trap? These possibilities had played through Brady’s mind the moment they decided to go: he’d discussed them with Owain, with Inigo, with Severa. Ultimately, they were going, and they would face this strange new destiny together.

“I’m… I’m glad we’re both goin’,” Brady choked between sobs, and he felt Owain’s arms tighten around them. It was as Owain had told him, what felt like forever ago: ‘I’ll never leave you again.’

“Are you two ready– ah, sorry,” Inigo began, then backpedaled, seeing the couple hug in the doorway, “Well, me and Severa are waiting outside.”

“No, no, we’re ready,” Brady rasped, pulling away from Owain, noting the concerned expression on the swordsman’s face, “What? I’m fine. Let’s get goin’, already.”

“As you wish,” Owain murmured, hefting his own belongings before following Inigo. Brady took one last look back at his room, before he felt Owain’s hand squeeze his. They left together, never to be seen for many years… if ever again.


End file.
